


Bandom Fan Fiction Challenge #1

by InLoveAndSqualor



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveAndSqualor/pseuds/InLoveAndSqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is locked out of the house he shares with his friend Gerard, his ice cream's melting, he's cold, and he's desperate to get in...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bandom Fan Fiction Challenge #1

Frank jostled the heavy brown paper shopping bags against his chest as he searched desperately in his jeans pockets.

"Keys... Shit," he sighed, giving into the fact that they definitely weren't there, after the hundredth time of looking.

He considered his options. Gerard had definitely said he'd be out for a few more hours, his ice-cream was melting to a sludge, he never did get around to getting that spare key cut, leaving it hidden in the mantle over the door like he'd always planned he would.

He looked around himself, with no real comprehension of what he was searching for, what answers he thought he might hope to find in the crooked paving that led up to their door, the tired dead-looking shrubs that lined it miserably.

His arms quickly tiring he rested his bags down by the door and walked over to the front window. The drapes only half pulled he saw their shadow-blackened and deserted looking lounge, his keys glinting at him from its coffee table in the darkness and gloom. He could've kicked himself then, the memory of darting out to catch the shop before its late night close, stuffing his wallet into his jeans pocket, his keys forgotten laying out in plain sight. He glanced away from his keys, so close yet so far away, and caught sight of the backdoor visible from there, past the lounge and through the kitchen. The faintest possibility that Gerard might've forgotten to lock it seized him and with deluded hope buzzing in his veins he gathered up his bags and headed around the side of the house.

Wrapping his forearm awkwardly around his shopping, Frank freed up his hand to try his luck with the backdoor. But the handle just stubbornly refused to turn. The one time he'd wanted him not to and Gerard had remembered to lock it.

The chill of a New Jersey winter night biting at him through his inappropriately light jacket; Frank picked up a rock uncertainly from their patched dirt and dead grass back yard. By now getting in wasn't so much the issue, it was almost a matter of pride. He smashed out the pane of glass nearest to the door handle, without giving his mind a chance to persuade him otherwise, pulled down his jacket sleeve over his wrist and hand for protection and slid his clothed arm in through the broken jagged glass to pop the latch.

He swung open the door smugly, grinning at his victory against the house, before heading back for his shopping bags still propped on what went for their back porch.

The backdoor still open there was just enough grim light spilling into the kitchen for Frank to be able to make out the outlines and dark silhouettes of the furniture and appliances. He walked towards the small round kitchen table that stood like a terrible giant black arachnid lingering in the centre of the room; took care to try to not trip and fall in the poorly lit gloom, the random detritus littered on the floor disguised by the shadows.

Frank suddenly felt a blunt yet excruciating pain make impact and spread hotly across his back; a blow that sent him toppling forward, his bags flying into the air, their contents scattering, falling to the ground and rolling uselessly across the floor. A box of eggs crashed down and its inhabitants spewed out, whites and yolks, cracked shell peppering it. A pineapple rolled past the wreckage of eggs merrily like it'd just pulled off this year's most audacious jailbreak. 

Frank heard the hollow sound of wood clattering to the floor, a baseball bat was shuddering to a stop on the tiled surface of the kitchen floor inches from his face.

He felt the air knocked desperately out of him as he hit the ground, a pain rushing through his chest, as the person above him pounced down and landed across his back.

Frank let out a strangled cry in response, an awful primal, animal like sound.  
' _Fuck... Am I being robbed?_ ' he thought almost deliriously.

"Who in the hell are you huh? Think you can break into my house!" Gerard boomed angrily above him.

Frank flailed beneath him on the filthy floor, still gasping for breath; he couldn't speak, he couldn't explain, if only he could turn himself over he thought.

"I'm calling the cops," Gerard explained exultantly, shifting his position to weigh down harder on Frank below.

He'd have liked to have said he'd heard a hint of fear painted on those words but Gerard above him sounded fearless.

"It's... Me... You... Idiot!" Frank gasped through painful rasping breaths. "Get the... Hell... Off me..."

For a minute Frank thought Gerard would oblige, seemed to rise off above him but as he tried to push himself up Gerard's weight blocked him, he was kneeling across him.

Frank turned himself face up, knocking against the sides of Gerard's bony knees clumsily as he tried to negotiate the tight space Gerard had left him with. 

Finally laying on his back and irritated Frank blew his fringe out of his eyes haughtily and stared daggers up at Gerard who grinned down at him with an obvious gleam of amusement dancing in is eyes.

"Fuck Gerard... My back. What the hell did you think you were doing you jerk?" Frank fumed; the warm angry sting of a bruise forming.

If Gerard was sorry, he sure as hell wasn't showing it as he smiled down at Frank, shone with a gleeful kind of smugness. 

"Get off me," Frank commanded gruffly staring Gerard straight in the eyes. Gerard just smiled.

"Hey Frankie," he teased playfully. "Why're you breaking into _our_ house?"

Frank rolled his eyes but indulged Gerard all the same, forming futility in his words.

"I forgot my keys you idiot... You're supposed to be out. And anyway what were you doing in here with all the damn lights out?"

Gerard just grinned at that, a sort of Machiavellian glee dancing within it that told Frank that he really didn't want to know.

Frank groaned, it was late, too late for this, and he was tired, he really didn't need any of this shit.

"Okay don't tell me," he sighed; knowing he must've looked more than a little defeated by now.

"Just... Please stop kidding around... I want to go to bed," he pleaded just a little.

Gerard just smiled; apparently anything was enough to amuse him now.

The darkest corners of Frank's mind thought about the baseball bat by his head, no real intention behind it, just the crazed kind of thought that comes into your head before it flashes away guiltily away again.

"Why you lookin' at that bat Frankie?" Gerard goaded. "Planning something there?"

Frank laughed, slightly embarrassed, slightly guilty.

"As if..." He smiled, but despite himself flushed pink with an embarrassed kind of shame.

"You're a terrible liar," Gerard smiled seductively, grabbing both of Frank's wrists and pinning them to the cool tiles beneath, guiding them both up above his head.

Frank raised a puzzled eyebrow in confusion but still found the air caught painfully, wildly, in his throat, and even if he couldn't let himself admit it for now there was arousal mixed up in that fear. An excitement that worked its way up and down his body like an exotic pair of hands. It felt wildly inappropriate in this moment but it also undeniably felt almost right.

And Gerard just kept staring, these apocalyptically awesome eyes, that were fierce and playful, sincere yet forever locked in some private joke. They provoked something within Frank he'd never known was there.

Frank sucked in his lower lip nervously, ran his tongue over the warm metal surface of his lip ring, a completely involuntary action but the sensation a sweet distraction nonetheless.

Flexing the fingers wrapped around Frank's wrists Gerard leaned in closer, until Frank could feel the breath calmly escaping his lips almost brush against his own anxious pair. Leaned in so far that those lips skimmed the arc of Frank's neck, left a tingling trail of goose bumps in their wake.

"This is really lame Gerard," Frank protested through shuddering lips that said so many more truths than his words. "You know, attacking me, doing this... This isn't how you seduce someone..."

Gerard laughed lightly into the curve of Frank's neck, sent vibrations and thrills scattering down his near helpless body.

"I think it might be," he murmured, still letting those lips skim Frank's desperately resisting inches.

Gerard let his lips rest open and warm upon Frank's neck, lingered there for what could have been to Frank seconds or hours before whispering hotly into Frank's ear.

"I think it might be. 'Cos I know the signs... I've done this more times than you," he explained in a voice that was so knowing and sure it was touching on sinister.

Frank felt his stomach flip and though nerves ran relentlessly through him it wasn't unpleasant to be unnerved to the point of a thrill by Gerard.

And lost in that thought Frank didn't notice Gerard's lips coming up to steal a kiss from his own, that kiss just suddenly became a reality, as Gerard grasped Frank's wrists tighter as if trying to anticipate a reaction, a rejection, a move. Stayed that way like he was waiting to make sure there was no resistance to fight. And when he found none he softened, relented, trailed his fingers from those wrists that hummed beneath them, down the long elegant curves of Frank's arms until a hand came to rest on Frank's chest, absorbed completely by the hypnotic rhythm of its rise and fall, how it was desperate and excited, uncertain yet so sure.

And the cool early morning winter hours rushed in through the long forgotten open door, flowed over and around and through them, pushed them closer into an embrace as they searched for warmth, sealed a deal that had already really been made and pushed them closer together than they'd ever been before.

Gerard clutched the fabric of Frank's jacket in a rare moment of reckless abandon, desire and joy spilling out uncontrolled until his fingers stopped dead over the sharp set of outlines in the light cloth.

Gerard pulled away slowly, his trade mark gently caustic smile cutting through the air between them.

"Forgot your keys huh?" He murmured letting his fingers disappear into his friend's breast pocket.

Retrieved two keys tauntingly and let them hang glinting lazily in the gloom.

Frank's mind raced uselessly, stuck in that awful mess of thoughts that shock always invites.

"But... I saw them... On the coffee table," he stuttered, truly dumbstruck.

"They're mine you idiot," Gerard returned, grinning. "But then I think you know that."

"Damn..." Frank muttered in irritation, the memory of himself searching every single pocket on him but the one his keys were actually in stinging at him.

His paranoia ran wild at the look in Gerard's eyes, battering at his senses, stopping him from forming a reasonable defence, and all he had was the truth, and sometimes that's the worst thing you can fight back with.

"If you wanted this Frankie... All you had to do was ask," Gerard purred. "Didn't really have to play these games..." He smiled, flinging Frank's keys away into the looming shadows; nailing Frank to the floor with the hungry gleaming intent in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Contest Entry  
> Prompts: Setting: Late at night in a room in someone's home, Items/Themes: A coffee table, a pineapple, broken glass, and a misunderstanding, Sentence: "I've done this more times than you."


End file.
